Third Time’s the Charm

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2011

Abstract

59">Strike Two</h1><p id="0533">Three months later with no desire to continue my agency, I was recommended to an author. I had no experience in the literary world aside from writing for myself. This time, I took the proper agreement steps, and the management agreement was signed before any work was done. For those of you that don’t know, agents typically work on commission. No success means no income. We agreed on a three-month pitching term. This is where I made my second mistake. While disheartened from my last client, I grasped anything that would help me build my confidence up. We received a few offers but no advances. My client had already made clear that their goal was to acquire an advance or self-publish. Fine. I would do my best, and we would part ways. It was a one-book agreement, and a great chance to try my hand as a literary agent. My failure was not in the choice of the book, not in the approach, and not at all in the client.</p><p id="fbcb">Four years later, and with a book myself, three months is an impossible term to pitch a book. Especially for an unknown agent. There’s a reason an initial term is no less than one year. I was so desperate that I just set myself up to let myself down. This was 100% my mistake and of no fault or ill-will of my client. At least this failure didn’t cost me money or relationships. We are still in contact to this day and working more as writing colleagues as opposed to agent/author. However, self-confidence is still a hell of a thing to lose. Especially twice in one year.</p><h1 id="f2c0">Three Strikes and You’re In</h1><p id="ed39">Four years later, I’m in the same full-time job. I’ve started moonlighting at a bar for a couple of years because New York City isn’t cheap. The bar I’m working at has live music. One of our regular performers comes in and just blows me away. I start by trying to pitch her to my company. At this point I’m still not trying to start my own business, but I do want her to succeed. My company rejects her. We

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are both a little broken-hearted, and I start feeling guilty because I was just so sure she was going to do great things. It’s also another stab at my self-confidence that maybe I’m too confident in my opinions and understanding of good music in the modern, popular world. The only difference now is that I’m used to being beat down by this city and this industry. Five years alone in New York City makes it almost impossible to not build up some type of armor to protect yourself and your ambition. While not easy, I am thankful for this as it created a spark in me that can be dulled but not fully extinguished.</p><p id="d25b">Against my better judgment, I offered my non-existent management services. This time I do it right. I lay out my abilities and what I’m willing to do while making it clear my limitations. I didn’t sell myself short, and I would hope no one ever does, but in an artist and manager relationship, trust and honesty are the most important elements to possess. While I’m not the person who has money or network to throw around, I have the education and willingness to take any risk and spend whatever time is necessary to find the right opportunities if they’re able to be found. We agreed on terms over a couple of months of negotiations. There was give and take. There was honesty. Most importantly, there was the drive on both sides. We both put in the time and dedication needed to make this work, and it set the tone for how our relationship has flourished since.</p><p id="9df5">Six months later, I got my first paycheck. To some people thirty dollars doesn’t mean much, but to me, that thirty dollars was everything. It was confirmation that I could do this. It was my self-confidence being reawakened. It was believing in myself again. I’m still a long way off from quitting my day job or being able to devote my time to more than two clients. But for me, that is enough. It reminded me that I am enough. My fire has been lit, and there’s no stopping me now.</p></article></body>

Strike One

Five years ago, I had this spur of the moment idea to start my own business. I was fresh out of law school, new to New York City, and truly believed I could accomplish anything. A wonderful artist manager who I had admired told me that the path to management was to just get started and if you do the work and stay passionate, the business works itself out. That night, I went home and Arioso was born. I had stars in my eyes, joy in my heart, and the drive to do whatever it took as long as it didn’t cost any money. Despite just landing a full-time job, New York City isn’t cheap. Every penny I had went to coffee meetings, cabs home from late night shows, and drinks at venues in hopes that they would rehire my artist, and I could build relationships that would persist throughout my career. All of my free time was spent researching venues and festivals. I could quote the rules and submission process of every songwriting competition that was offered. I was tired but inspired.

Three months in, my artist started dropping off the grid. She wasn’t answering my calls. She was costing me while making her own money on the side. I had all of my eggs in one basket and piece by piece, that basket was falling apart. My management agreement, while hours had spent to get negotiated, was never signed. I had graduated law school at this point and should have known better, but I was willing to give up everything for this to work, and I did. I lost money, friendships, and the confidence that had taken years to build up. Three months in, and my only client had become a ghost. I was so discouraged, and my answer was to throw in the towel.

Strike Two

Three months later with no desire to continue my agency, I was recommended to an author. I had no experience in the literary world aside from writing for myself. This time, I took the proper agreement steps, and the management agreement was signed before any work was done. For those of you that don’t know, agents typically work on commission. No success means no income. We agreed on a three-month pitching term. This is where I made my second mistake. While disheartened from my last client, I grasped anything that would help me build my confidence up. We received a few offers but no advances. My client had already made clear that their goal was to acquire an advance or self-publish. Fine. I would do my best, and we would part ways. It was a one-book agreement, and a great chance to try my hand as a literary agent. My failure was not in the choice of the book, not in the approach, and not at all in the client.

Four years later, and with a book myself, three months is an impossible term to pitch a book. Especially for an unknown agent. There’s a reason an initial term is no less than one year. I was so desperate that I just set myself up to let myself down. This was 100% my mistake and of no fault or ill-will of my client. At least this failure didn’t cost me money or relationships. We are still in contact to this day and working more as writing colleagues as opposed to agent/author. However, self-confidence is still a hell of a thing to lose. Especially twice in one year.

Three Strikes and You’re In

Four years later, I’m in the same full-time job. I’ve started moonlighting at a bar for a couple of years because New York City isn’t cheap. The bar I’m working at has live music. One of our regular performers comes in and just blows me away. I start by trying to pitch her to my company. At this point I’m still not trying to start my own business, but I do want her to succeed. My company rejects her. We are both a little broken-hearted, and I start feeling guilty because I was just so sure she was going to do great things. It’s also another stab at my self-confidence that maybe I’m too confident in my opinions and understanding of good music in the modern, popular world. The only difference now is that I’m used to being beat down by this city and this industry. Five years alone in New York City makes it almost impossible to not build up some type of armor to protect yourself and your ambition. While not easy, I am thankful for this as it created a spark in me that can be dulled but not fully extinguished.

Against my better judgment, I offered my non-existent management services. This time I do it right. I lay out my abilities and what I’m willing to do while making it clear my limitations. I didn’t sell myself short, and I would hope no one ever does, but in an artist and manager relationship, trust and honesty are the most important elements to possess. While I’m not the person who has money or network to throw around, I have the education and willingness to take any risk and spend whatever time is necessary to find the right opportunities if they’re able to be found. We agreed on terms over a couple of months of negotiations. There was give and take. There was honesty. Most importantly, there was the drive on both sides. We both put in the time and dedication needed to make this work, and it set the tone for how our relationship has flourished since.

Six months later, I got my first paycheck. To some people thirty dollars doesn’t mean much, but to me, that thirty dollars was everything. It was confirmation that I could do this. It was my self-confidence being reawakened. It was believing in myself again. I’m still a long way off from quitting my day job or being able to devote my time to more than two clients. But for me, that is enough. It reminded me that I am enough. My fire has been lit, and there’s no stopping me now.